


A Little Effort, A Little Blood

by lustfulmango



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, M/M, implied caveira/twitch, lion's heart goes doki doki, mission goes wrong, montagne and twitch are wingmen, rook can't drink, some denial
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:35:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25130230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lustfulmango/pseuds/lustfulmango
Summary: The moment the enemy had gotten the better of them, Olivier didn’t even need to think when it came down to him and Gustave—he would choose Gustave every time.Lion has a difficult time not arguing with Doc. The GIGN decides to help.
Relationships: Olivier "Lion" Flament/Gustave "Doc" Kateb
Comments: 11
Kudos: 83





	1. The First Step

Gustave Kateb liked his coffee in the morning with one and a half packets of sugar. That was one thing Olivier Flament knew from observing and working with the doctor for the last few years.

And another thing he learned was that when Gustave smiled, most of the time it was not for him. It was just as well he learned this, because he found that he much preferred the doctor’s handsome smiles rather than the angry rebuttals he often elicited; it was better to anticipate the disappointment rather than have every argument take him by surprise. After all, it was in Olivier’s nature to start most of the fights.

“Rein in your impulses for this operation,” Gustave told Olivier after a briefing of the operation parameters—infiltrating an abandoned opera house on the outskirts of London on suspicions that the White Masks were holding a rally for impressionable folks. The scheduled drills were posted on the board, slotting in Rainbow operators for simulations with each other and the recruits. “We need to work together, and that requires cooperation.”

The doctor still wore his white coat, having come straight from the medical wing to attend the first briefing of many in the coming three weeks. Whatever notes he’d taken during the first meeting were stuck to the clipboard he brought from his office, currently nestled under an arm. The recruits involved with the operation had already been dismissed, leaving only the Rainbow operators behind.

“I’m not the one who usually makes a fuss,” Olivier said as he gathered his own papers into a folder. 

“You’re the cause of most of my problems.” Gustave frowned at the back of Olivier’s dark blue hoodie.

“Things get done faster when they’re done my way.”

“Your way isn’t always right.”

“We can agree to disagree.” The CBRN operator straightened and pushed past Gustave. 

Olivier felt Gilles’ presence follow him out the door before he heard his voice. “He means well, you know.”

“He thinks I’m a pain in the ass,” Olivier immediately said.

“And what do you think of him?”

He hesitated to answer. “He’s different.” _Better,_ he thought.

“You’re more similar than you think,” Gilles said, falling into step with him as they approached the living quarters on base.

“Get your eyes checked, Gilles.” 

“It’s not that he hates you.”

“Could fool anyone.”

“He’s just stubborn, like you.”

Olivier rolled his eyes. “Thanks.” Montagne never quite had a way with words, but his brevity was more welcome than, say, Kapkan’s philosophical drivel. This time, however, the younger operator couldn’t care less about what his wise elder had to say.

For some reason all Olivier could think about was the absence of blue—the blue gloves that usually accompanied Gustave’s medical attire were missing today, and despite all his efforts to avoid looking at him, Olivier had caught sight of his bare hands. He almost hated himself for noticing these trivial things, even moreso for fixating on them.

Relief washed over Olivier when they arrived outside his room, but Gilles continued to hover, hands fiddling uncharacteristically as he thought about his next words. Peace was just a door away, so close that Olivier could almost touch its sweetness in the solitude that awaited—but he instead wrapped his fingers around the doorknob and looked at Gilles expectantly.

“He worries, you know,” Gilles finally said. “You should talk to him, instead of arguing all the time.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me,” Olivier said, the frustration biting through his words.

“Maybe you should stop fighting him, then.”

“If an opportunity presents itself, I’ll be sure to take it.” 

“We’re going drinking next week.”

 _Always prepared, isn’t he,_ Olivier thought grimly. “Goodnight, Gilles.” The door closed unceremoniously in Gilles’ face. While rude, the older operator knew that he’d give enough thought to what he said. If anything was consistent about Lion, it was that he thought often and hard about what the right thing to do was. And sometimes, what was obviously the right thing took less time to ruminate on.

\---

“You should come with us to the pub.” Olivier never expected Gustave to invite him himself. “Emmanuelle is buying.” It was always GIGN tradition for those not involved with the operation to treat their fellow operators sometime before the big day. Olivier often elected to sit out, despite Gilles’ gentle needling.

“I don’t drink,” Olivier replied, hardly missing a beat.

“We rarely find time to ourselves as GIGN,” Gustave said. If Olivier was less observant, he would have missed the nearly hidden insistence in his voice. 

For a moment, he almost agreed to go, but shook his head. “I’d much rather spend it alone. Thanks.”

Gustave shot Gilles and Emmanuelle a look, as if to say _I told you so._ “I’ll reserve some seats,” he said before leaving.

The pair shared a glance before Emmanuelle nudged Julien and nodded towards the door. Julien took the hint, hurriedly following Gustave. “I’ll keep you company,” he called after the doctor. Olivier’s green eyes narrowed suspiciously at the remaining two, curious as to what they wanted to say in private.

“You don’t have to order alcohol, you know,” Emmanuelle said. With all that she knew of the operator, it was no wonder he balked at the idea of drinking. A past with a vice like addiction could do that to someone, but Olivier had proved himself to be tougher than the past. It showed in every interaction with Gustave, whose own past haunted him, whatever he said about it. “It’s not often we get to hang out like this,” she continued. “Besides, it’s tradition.”

“It’s not my taste,” Olivier said. “They play music I don’t really like.”

Emmanuelle gave Gilles an exasperated look, slapping his arm lightly with the back of her hand. She was practically pleading for his help.

“Relaxed people talk,” Gilles said, with a dead stare at Olivier as he crossed his arms. 

Three words, quick and easy in the usual Montagne fashion, hung in the room. The very air seemed to suspend as they watched Olivier contemplate the invitation.

“Alright, fine.” His sigh of defeat was met with Emmanuelle’s grin and Gilles’ nod of approval. 

\---

Gustave sighed as he sat at the bar, waiting for the pitcher he ordered on Emmanuelle’s tab. He rubbed his face in frustration as he thought about Olivier’s response to his invitation. Emmanuelle and Gilles both grilled him to extend his hand first, and what exactly were they expecting? He felt like a fool. “He’s always difficult,” he muttered under his breath.

“You don’t have to be so prickly around him.” Emmanuelle’s quiet voice startled him from his thoughts. He didn’t hear or see her slide into the seat next to him—just the thought of Olivier had that sort of effect on him, especially when they argued. Dressed in the usual black shirt and sweats when she usually worked with Elena, he figured she hadn’t had time to change from the lab work.

“He has a certain way with people, you must admit,” Gustave said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the table.

Emmanuelle chuckled. “That may be true, but he’s not that bad. Personal values shouldn’t get in the way of our work, anyhow.” She shot a knowing glance at Gustave.

He looked away. “He doesn’t take mistakes well, especially his own.”

“He’s always been delicate. Since Africa.”

“Africa changed all of us.” Emmanuelle pretended she didn’t hear the difficulty in Gustave’s voice that even alcohol couldn’t mask. She watched the hesitation that lingered in the furrow of his brow before he added, “And he has a particular talent for making people worry unnecessarily.”

“So you are worried about him.” She clamped down on the smile that crept on her face, maintaining a pokerface Gilles would be proud of.

“I worry about everyone.”

“Maybe you should talk to him sometime. Get to know him better.” 

“I’ll consider it.”

“You might even come to like him.” Emmanuelle was serious—unlike Gustave, she’d overcome her differences with the CBRN operator.

The doctor let out a breath of laughter at her steely optimism. “I may be past what happened in Africa, but don’t get ahead of yourself, Twitch.”

\---

  
Olivier could see Gustave’s grin from the table where the other GIGN operators were sitting. He came late, finishing up paperwork and dropping reports off at a couple of offices after Emmanuelle and Gilles convinced him to join in the revelry. Before he knew it, a couple of hours passed and Olivier only had time to throw on a gray hoodie to protect against the chilly night air and make his way to the pub. Gustave was at the bar, ordering a round of drinks, and Emmanuelle was already keeping him company by the time he arrived.

In the short time he was sitting at the table, Gilles couldn’t help but notice the way Olivier’s eyes kept darting between Julien’s meaningless drunken chatter and where Emmanuelle and Gustave sat at the bar. He found it amusing, but easily managed to keep his mouth still.

“Go help with the drinks, we’ll be here,” he said, surprising the agitated man sitting next to him.

“I don’t drink—” he tried to reiterate, but Gilles shook his head.

“Not for yourself, dumbass,” Julien cut in, face tinged with the effects of beer, contrasting the bold blue hood of his sweater that hid his short brown hair. He’d already had several bottles, which explained the unusual forwardness unbefitting the youngest operator of the squad. But the image of Julien’s slack expression and inability to keep his head above his shoulders was too ridiculous for Olivier to even begin to get mad at him. “And hurry it up!”

“I’ll stay and watch, make sure at least one of you don’t get into trouble,” Gilles said as he wrapped a heavy hand on Julien’s shoulder and shook him gently. “He forgets his limits every time, this boy.”

“I’ll be back.” Olivier said, careful not to stand up too quickly.

“Take your time,” Gilles offered. “Look at him, Julien can afford a break from drinking. And I’ve still got plenty to go.” He tapped on his glass, still more than halfway full.

“Thanks,” Olivier said, not even looking anywhere near the table.

“No problem,” Gilles said, but Olivier had already begun making his way to the bar.

\---

  
When Gustave saw Emmanuelle peer past him, he had a gut feeling about what—or rather who had stolen her attention. With some reluctance, he turned his head, only to meet Olivier’s green gaze as he trudged towards them.

“I’ll go check on Julien,” Emmanuelle said, giving Olivier a look that Gustave couldn’t see before she made her way back to the other GIGN operators. As she passed by Olivier, she leaned in—if Gustave blinked, he would have missed the quickness of it.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Gustave said as Olivier settled in the empty seat Emmanuelle left.

“I can always leave,” came the nearly expected reply. Almost immediately, Olivier frowned at his own words. “That was rude. Sorry.” 

The unexpected apology took Gustave by surprise. “Better late than never, I guess,” he said under his breath, not sure if he was talking about Olivier’s punctuality or the long-overdue apology. 

“I hope I wasn’t intruding on your conversation.”

“Not at all. She was just telling a joke.”

Olivier raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.

“And you? Seems she shared a secret,” Gustave said hastily, eager to change the subject. He didn’t want to let him know they were talking about him.

“Emmanuelle tells me you’re a heartbreaker.”

Gustave nearly spat his drink when he heard those words and quickly cleared his throat. It took Olivier a second before he realized the doctor was embarrassed. “Is that what she said?” he asked, more to himself than to his companion.

“Is it true?” There was an unusually innocent quality to Olivier’s voice.

Gustave covered his mouth with a hand, flustered. Olivier was enjoying this—these were expressions he didn’t get to see often, and he’d like to get to know them. He could practically hear the gears grinding in the doctor’s head, working out how to get himself out of this situation. Only after studying the selection behind the bar counter did Gustave finally reply, “Only to women.”

“I can see it. You’re…” The CBRN operator glanced at the doctor and considered him for a moment. The top of his shirt was left unbuttoned, different from when he was working on base and definitely showing more skin than Olivier was used to, and the way his hands looked cradling the beer bottle on the counter—Olivier stopped himself before he could say _handsome_ among other things. Instead, he hastily took a sip of his soda and waved his hand. “You’re you. How can none of them be to your liking?”

“They’re not my cup of tea. They always find out a little too late, that’s why Emmanuelle says that.”

Olivier was quiet for a moment, then asked as casually as he could, “What _is_ your cup of tea?” He watched as Gustave found his beer bottle incredibly interesting, unsure if he would get lucky with an answer.

With an unexpectedly serious face, Gustave answered, “Chamomile. Helps me sleep at night.” Sheepishness drenched every word.

Whatever was playing on the speakers had drowned itself out as Olivier held his gaze. For a breath, they simply regarded each other, and Gustave felt his shoulders tense with the anticipation of what would come out of the other’s mouth. Eventually, Olivier said, “Chamomile is good. I prefer it myself.”

Before anything more could be said, the bartender arrived with a pitcher of golden ale. “This is for Emmanuelle,” she said, looking directly at the doctor.

Gustave released the breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “Thanks,” he said with a quick smile of gratitude. Her interference saved him from something—from what, it was unclear, but he was thankful all the same. “I think after I finish this, I’m done,” he said once the bartender left, shaking the almost empty bottle. “There’s a lot to do in the coming few days.” I’ve said too much, he thought sulkily. Some things, still blurry between the lines, he’d never thought to tell Olivier. Even more, he didn’t think Olivier would take whatever he said in stride, with how straightforward he was and all. But somehow, there was something less between them, something that fizzled like the bubbles of Olivier’s soda. Gustave wanted to call it trust.

Olivier nodded, thoughtfully. “Let’s finish it up with a toast, then.”

“A toast?” Gustave eyed him curiously.

Olivier raised his glass towards him stoically. “To chamomile and good sleep.” 

A smile played on the corners of Gustave’s mouth. Olivier was the last person he’d thought to be playful, but he didn’t quite mind. This was more preferable than their usual icy banter. “To chamomile and good sleep.” He clinked against the glass with his bottle and downed what little remained of his beer. “I’ll check in with the rest of the unit before heading home.”

“Take care,” Olivier said. “We’re going to need clear heads for the upcoming days.” 

Gustave nodded in agreement, and a beat of silence clouded his dark eyes. Olivier tried to scan his face for a read on his thoughts, but he never would have expected what the doctor said next. “We should do this more often.”

Olivier blinked, struggling to recover for a second. “It’s a wonder that we don’t,” he replied, noticing too late how stupid and sarcastic he sounded.

“Since nobody’s told you, I’ll do the honor of letting you know that you’re not the easiest person to work with, especially on these things.” Though the words were thorny, they were also lighthearted.

“I’m… working on it.” Olivier rubbed the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed. He heard Gustave give a light chuckle, and suddenly he was aware of his own heartbeat. It was hard to tell if it was simply matching the thumping beat of the music or something else entirely.

“Me too,” Gustave said. “It’s good to just talk sometimes. And…” He hesitated before continuing, “You’re good at what you do.” With one last look at Olivier, he pushed off his seat and made his way to the GIGN’s table.

Olivier turned and watched as Gustave roused Julien’s red face from where it rested on his forearms, entertained by his stupor. Gilles nodded his farewell while Emmanuelle smiled and said something, making Gustave grimace jokingly. Olivier longed for his laughter again, but he was oddly satisfied with the small conversation that had taken place tonight. For the first time in a long time, he and Gustave had not only shared a drink, but each other’s company—and it hadn’t ended in anger or frustration. And it was comforting to know that he wasn’t the only one who was trying to make things easier.

 _Gilles was right,_ he thought. _Relaxed people talk._

He only wished they could spend more time like this together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the summary--
> 
> Lion: fuck he's hot


	2. Chance

This was the worst case scenario.

The theatre lobby was empty, that much was clear from the squad’s quick and thorough sweep. At the head of the unit was Eliza, fiery red hair in a low braid, the SIM-SUIT peeking out from the sleeves of her jacket under the combat gear. Jordan and Monika followed as close as they dared without lining up, while Olivier took up the rear with Gustave. Their respective guns trained on different angles as they moved with the unit. It was quiet, except for the soft thuds of their boots as they spread out into a loose formation.

Out of the corner of his eye, Olivier caught Eliza’s hand signal for the EE-ONE-D, which he activated immediately from the device on his wrist. The sonar waves reverberated throughout the lobby and past its openings, seeping into the empty hallways and rooms that they hadn’t yet ventured through. The operators stayed still for the short duration, scanning the space with their eyes in hopes that something would slip up and show itself. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to be that easy. 

Once the echolocation subsided and nothing showed up out of the ordinary, Monika activated her electronics detector, quickly slinging her primary weapon over her shoulder for her pistol. Reacting quickly, she took out a blue-ringed camera, one of Valkyrie’s many eyes. Only then did the unit continue moving forward as she took the lead from Eliza, scanning quickly and carefully.

They stalked through the grand entrance into the wide hallway, eyes peeled for any movement. Olivier stole a peek at Gustave, whose expression was the epitome of concentration. The serious set of his mouth, the way his fingers curled around the trigger, even his posture all embodied the concept of steadiness. Olivier was reminded to stay focused—something he usually never had a problem with on a mission.

Maybe it was the caffeine he’d downed an hour before he was ordered to gear up. Or maybe it was because he didn’t have time to listen to a few songs and ready his mind before he went in. Or maybe it was the fact that this was the third time he was working alongside Gustave. 

Either way, Olivier was alight with a buzzing in his body and a tautness in his mind. Neither the eerie quiet nor the suffocating tension helped—he was just a bundle of nerves waiting to pop.

Movement caught the corner of his eye. He swung towards it, concentrating on where the shadow disappeared from the hallway entrance. Gustave reacted just as sharply. They held their sights for a couple of long seconds, wary of their own breathing. Olivier tightened his grip on the gun, hyperaware of every tiny sound and every slight ripple in the stillness.

Nothing but quiet.

Instead, he heard Gustave’s careful backstep, watching the sightline as he retreated towards the others as they advanced. He felt the severity of his gaze, knowing what’s at stake and yet still helplessly drawn to the intensity. Even just one glance was fatal.

But distraction was all that was needed. In a split second, gunfire sounded, followed by a pained yell. Startled, Olivier turned his head just in time to see Gustave hit the ground, chalk covering the side of his torso like a spray of white powdery blood. There was no time for the rapid sinking feeling in his chest at the sight before he felt something impact the center of his back. The force and the sting of it punched the wind from his lungs, bringing him to his knees. As he willingly flattened himself to the ground, he caught sight of Caveira’s skull-painted face, her beloved Luison strapped to her thigh for the more favorable M12. From the hallway entrance, Vigil appeared, his black mask made more intimidating in the low light.

“Take cover!” Eliza yelled. What was left of the unit dispersed for better positioning, leaving the two of them where they lay.

As per the rules, Gustave and Olivier crawled to safety as the battle raged between the remaining attackers and the surrounding defenders. Gilles came to meet them once they emerged from the simulation, the worry evident in the lines on his face.

The simulation had already been going on for hours since early morning, beginning with a team of defenders and an initial team of attackers. It was when the attackers’ comms were cut short in calling for reinforcements did the support team on standby step in. The situation drastically changed even before Gilles’ unit limped out of the simulation one by one covered in chalk.

“Caveira?” he asked, eying how they held their sides.

“Caveira,” Gustave confirmed, shrugging. He took off his balaclava and pulled his mask down, leaving indents where they’d dug into his face. Olivier’s was already off, swinging from the tips of his fingers.

“That woman is something else,” Gilles admitted ruefully.

Olivier continued past them, barely catching Gustave asking, “She got you too?” The locker room had the silence that was needed, and he was grateful for its emptiness while everyone was still awaiting the outcome from the simulation. Sitting wearily on the bench, he placed the headgear next to him, rubbing the tension from the back of his neck.

“Are you alright?” Olivier jumped at the sound of Gustave’s voice, sucking air through his teeth at the unexpected pain when he turned too quickly.

“Just bruises. You’re not any better yourself, no?”

“I’ll live,” Gustave said, tossing a towel at him before settling onto the bench next to Olivier. 

“Not if I keep fucking up,” Olivier muttered. He was close enough that the CBRN operator could see where the faint specks of chalk on his cheek were streaked through with sweat. Even after Gustave wiped most of it off, Olivier tore his eyes away only when the doctor met them.

“I could have done a better job backing you up,” Gustave countered. 

“I should have used the EE-ONE-D.”

“They would have shot you down before you activated it.”

“It’s a chance that I should have taken.”

“You can’t always risk yourself for the team.”

“You wouldn’t have gotten shot.”

Olivier could feel Gustave’s gaze burning holes into the side of his face, and when he finally looked to confirm it, the easiness had gone from the doctor’s face. Exhaustion was evident in the dark bags under his eyes, how the bits of chalk he missed only highlighted the white hairs that crept up his temples, the defeated yet angry shine in his dark eyes.

“This isn’t just about me,” Gustave said.

Olivier didn’t answer immediately, only because in his heart, it _was_ about Gustave. It was too easy to visualize him laying on the concrete floor, red splatters staining their combat gear instead of chalk. If anything, the person who should die was not Gustave. Coming out of the Ebola outbreak unwillingly scarred, Gustave had fought for his colleagues’ survival. Even then, Olivier was drawn to the intense compassion like a moth to flame—who knew that in the end he would be the cause of his hate? “I can’t afford any more casualties,” he finally replied. 

“People care about you too, you know,” Gustave said quietly.

“Are you one of them?” The question slipped out before it could be filtered through his brain, still rattled by the vision of Gustave’s unmoving body.

There was a brief moment of contemplation before Gustave replied thoughtfully, “I would be lying if I said I’m not.”

Olivier chuckled, stopping short at the soreness around his chest. “Nothing less than the truth. It’s fitting.”

“I’m a doctor, it’s not in my nature to lie.”

“I always liked your honesty.”

The sincerity in Olivier’s voice gave Gustave pause. “That’s unexpected, coming from you,” he said with an awkward smile. He eyed the younger operator cautiously, as if whatever hidden barb in his words would show itself.

“I’ll return the favor from last time,” Olivier said, “and do the honor of telling you that it’s not easy saying these things with your guard up all the time.”

“It’s not without good reason.” The accidental implication was all too clear. There was years-old accusation added to its weight, something the doctor didn’t intend to bring up—something he’d already forgiven Olivier for. Immediately, the humor faded from Olivier’s face, leaving his mouth set into a grim line and his eyes stuck to the floor.

Before Gustave could rectify his mistake, the door to the locker room burst open. All the operators involved in the simulation poured in, covered in chalk. The defending unit, led by Meghan, had an air of smugness about them—except for Vigil, who was the embodiment of quiet as usual.

“I didn’t hurt you too bad, did I?” Meghan asked, the smile she wore faltering with a bit of concern when she saw the two operators on the bench. It was no secret that there was tension between the two, despite whatever reassurances the GIGN were propagating. And though they tried their hardest to keep their arguments from the rest of the operators, the difference in atmosphere was apparent.

“We’ll get you next time,” Gustave replied, answering for the both of them.

“I won’t go easy.” She bumped her hip against Gustave’s shoulder before making her way to the showers.

A tight-lipped Eliza approached with a curt nod as she tried to rub the chalk out of her hair. Monika and Jordan passed by, the German operator sullen-faced as she talked about the different outcomes the simulation could have had, Jordan listening intently to her rambles.

“Doc, we’re gonna need you for the report,” Eliza said.

“Understood.” Gustave stood from the bench, then turned to the operator still seated next to him, but Olivier was faster.

“See you around,” he said, glancing briefly at him in dismissal.

Gustave opened his mouth a fraction as if to say something about the prior conversation—about how he didn’t blame him anymore, for anything. But he gave a little shake of his head, as if the task of continuing their talk was best left to a better time. “Yes,” he said instead. “See you around.” And after a regretful look, Gustave followed the FBI operator, leaving Olivier to watch his still-stained back as the pair walked out of the room. 

“Mistakes happen,” a gruff voice said quietly behind him. He turned to see Taina, her skull paint staining the towel that hung around her shoulders. “Sometimes you can’t see them coming.” He had a sneaking suspicion she wasn’t talking about her exceptionally silent hunting skills.

“So what can we do in a case like that?”

She shrugged. “We do our best.” She placed a hand on Olivier’s shoulder, a gesture more telling that it came from her than anyone else. “You did good today, Lion, and you’ll do better when the time comes.”

Olivier’s smile was small but grateful. “Thanks, Caveira,” he told her before leaving to clean off. Taina nodded and went to her locker, where a curious Emmanuelle stood waiting for her.

“You don’t usually preach,” she said, nodding at where Olivier was a moment ago. “What made you?”

“He reminds me of us,” Taina said quietly, eyes shifting left and right despite the sounds of slamming doors and metal clattering against metal drowning out her words. “I just thought there might be a chance…”

“What about us?” Emmanuelle asked, cocking her head. There was the barest hint of bitterness in the way she said “us”, as if their understanding of the word was not quite on the same page. For one, they weren’t even together.

“It’s how he looked at Gustave today. It’s the same way I look at you.”

“And how do you look at me?” Emmanuelle’s voice was careful. She almost didn’t want to hear the answer, if only because it’d be futile—they’d decided during Operation: Archangel that it just wasn’t going to work out. Yet, Taina’s eyes were steady when they met hers, certain and clear as always. Emmanuelle knew that what she would say next would hurt the both of them, but it was always easier to indulge in their feelings than abandon them. 

“Like you’re precious,” Taina whispered before dropping her gaze back to her locker.

\---

Emmanuelle knew where to find Gustave. After a long day of rounds in the medical wing and a half hour past midnight, the diligent doctor sat working through papers and reports at his desk in his office. The door was already open, but she knocked twice on the door frame anyway. He whipped his attention towards her, stern-faced, but relaxed when he saw who it was.

“What’s got you so wound up?” Emmanuelle asked.

“Nothing,” Gustave said, but she had an inkling of the truth behind his lie. “And what brings you here?” he asked her. “No injuries from the lab, I hope.”

“None. I’m not here for me,” Emmanuelle replied, leaning against the frame. She was cleaned up, no grease or mark blemishing her skin, and she looked more refreshed than he’d seen her in a while, if a little melancholy. “Just checking up on you. Haven’t seen much of you all day. You or Olivier.”

“It’s been a busy week.” Gustave glared at his desk, which was flooded with folders, papers, and pens. “I’m sure it’s the same for him.”

“You two had a disagreement again.” Emmanuelle crossed her arms. “Gilles told me.”

“It wasn’t a disagreement.” She and Gilles teamed up too often for their own good.

“It’s not hard to tell. He’s the only one who makes you work like this. I bet more than half of those aren’t even due anytime soon.”

“I like to work ahead.”

“You always hole yourself up when you get upset. What’d he say this time?”

Gustave looked back at his desk, suddenly more interested in the mess than the conversation. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. Emmanuelle came from a good place, he knew, and she hated when they fought.

“It’s something I said.” 

Emmanuelle’s eyebrows shot up at his admittance. When it came to Olivier, the fingers were always pointed at the other. For all their efforts, something was getting through, if the implied apology was what bothered the doctor. Though she should be relieved that Gustave’s empathy was getting the better of him, there was a worrisome gnawing at the back of her mind. 

She thought about her and Taina, their strange relationship of acknowledging and ignoring the intangible between them, and the bleak future. But when Emmanuelle looked at Gustave and how he seemed genuinely bothered at hurting Olivier, she remembered Taina’s words and Olivier’s smile. It was then that she understood what the BOPE operator was trying to do when she spoke with Olivier. _Like you’re precious._

“He’s still up,” she said tentatively. “Working.” _Like you,_ Gustave almost heard her say. “He’s in the workshop right now. I was with him a little while ago, but I’m leaving now. It would be nice if he had some company.” She bit her lip and held still, waiting for something to happen. Maybe it was hope—for her, for Olivier, for someone—that made her want the other to do something. But Gustave stayed unmoving. Emmanuelle pushed off the wall to leave, disappointment welling up in her.

“Olivier,” Gustave said suddenly, stopping the brunette operator in her tracks. “What does he like to drink?” 

\---

Gustave hovered around the door, glowering at the soda can in his hand, its coldness biting into his skin. He always knew that Olivier had juvenile tastes—sometimes he’d catch the younger operator’s jaw working on a piece of gum as he exercised on the other end of the gym. But beyond that, he never paid much attention to the things he indulged in, besides the music.

He eyed the door handle, as if he’d rather touch anything else but that. The more seconds ticked by, the more the doctor grew nervous, unsure of what to do once he opened the door. Emmanuelle had only told him what to get, not how to deliver it, and he wondered how stupid he must look, agonizing over something that must be so trivial. Now’s a better time than any, he thought as he braced himself and finally opened the door.

Olivier sat alone in a corner of the workshop, one of his drones disassembled on the table. Earphones blocked all sound, just the thrum of a fast double bass and an electric guitar ripping through his mind as he dissected the gadget intensely. There was no one else.

Gustave watched him for a moment. Olivier’s head bobbed the tiniest bit to the beat as he worked, completely oblivious to the dilemma brewing at the door. It was rare to see one of the more strict operators let his guard down, especially because it was the Lion himself. If it had been anyone else, Gustave would have felt guilty disrupting their peace—even now there was an inkling of it, whether or not it was something changing or because he was more nervous than he should be.

Whatever it was, he did his best to shake it off and approached the table as casually as he could.

Olivier never looked up, too absorbed in his task and his music. Gustave had to rap his knuckles on the table to get his attention. He was unprepared for his annoyed look, which instantly transitioned into wide-eyed surprise when he realized who it was that stood before him. Gustave set the soda can on the table, safely away from the drone.

“How’s your back?” Gustave knew he couldn’t avoid the topic forever, but he tried anyway.

“It’s fine. What are you doing here?”

“Emmanuelle told me you were here. Are you free now?”

“I needed a break anyway.” Olivier leaned back as Gustave slowly sank into the empty chair across from him. “What do you need?”

“There was a misunderstanding earlier.”

Olivier tensed. “There’s no reason for you to clarify anything. Whatever you meant, I deserve it,” Olivier said with a matter-of-fact tone.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Gustave insisted. “We were never compatible to begin with. That’s all.”

There wasn’t anything wrong with what he said—it was true, after all. Not that that knowledge didn’t make Olivier’s heart ache any less. He glanced at the soda sitting innocently on the table between them. “Why are you even here?” The frustration hung frostily in his voice. 

“If you think Gilles and Emmanuelle put me up to this, you’re wrong. I want to fix things between us.”

“There are things that can’t be changed.” Olivier could never forget the raw anger and grief that followed the doctor around for months after, as heavy as the Nigerian climate.

“Some things can be changed.”

“Maybe it’s better if they stay the same.”

There was a moment of anger that flashed across the doctor’s face, his knuckles whitening when his hands briefly tightened into fists before relaxing. Stubbornness was always the worst demon to deal with when it came to Olivier. “What are you afraid of?” he asked, at wit’s end. 

It was always kindness that fueled the rage behind the doctor’s eyes when they argued. Olivier had known that. He’d always known it. So when he answered Gustave, he shoved the stubbornness down, and the hardest words that ever came out of his mouth slid easily into the open. He looked straight into the doctor’s eyes, unwavering. Gustave found he could not look away.

“Many things,” Olivier admitted. “Making mistakes. Losing people.” _Hurting you,_ he thought. And simultaneously, out of the blue, _falling in love again._ He avoided the other man’s intense stare, choosing to settle his eyes on where his hands fidgeted in his lap. “What about you? What are you afraid of?”

“Losing people, huh?” Gustave muttered under his breath. Olivier wasn’t sure if the haunted look in the doctor’s face was imagined. “Maybe we have more in common than we thought,” he said with a chuckle that sounded more somber than entertained. He looked at Olivier, studying his face for a moment. “You know, despite all the shit we went through, I still care about you.”

“I care about you too,” Olivier said softly, looking away and glancing back again. “So don’t go dying on me when we’re out there.”

Gustave could only blink, not expecting a confession of that caliber from someone who was always at odds with him. He couldn’t stop staring, almost in disbelief. There was an uncomfortable feeling of endearment at Olivier’s complete honesty, along with another feeling that his words may be hinting at something beyond the scope of their conversation. Whatever it was, it failed to hold back his curling grin, and he pushed it to the back of his mind.

“That’s my line,” Gustave said with a more genuine laugh. Olivier grinned back, unable to help himself. The uncomfortable feeling wormed its way into Gustave’s chest, and in an effort to distract himself, he checked his wristwatch. “I should get going,” he said, getting up. “Don’t overwork yourself.” The last one sounded more like the doctor with his thinly veiled threats. The CBRN operator simply shrugged, not even bothering to answer. He’ll work for however long he needed, and everyone knew that.

Once the door closed and Gustave’s footsteps faded away into the night, Olivier looked at the earphones on the table waiting for him to pick them up again. But instead of heavy metal, he wanted to hear Gustave’s laughter, see the corner of his lip curve upward as a precursor. 

Olivier frowned at the dissected drone, strangely empathizing with how vulnerable it was with its exposed bits and pieces. 

It seemed as if one of his fears was already coming true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bleh haven't post in a while, but i'm getting the story sorted. it's gotten a little longer than initially planned keke


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